When I was first asked to preach at this Deanery Evensong, I warned Father David that I would have just returned from a walking pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela in Spain and that my theme would probably be on the theology of blisters. Well, the pilgrimage is indeed completed now, and I will come back to blisters in a moments. But, first, I want to consider why were are here tonight ? both generally and specifically. Tonight is the occasion of our now annual Deanery Evensong, an opportunity to gather together as Anglicans in Thurrock ? brought together by an accident of geography and political mapmaking which gives the Unitary Authority and the Deanery the same boundaries. We represent urban and rural parishes, multi-ethnic areas, seaports, farms, industries, and schools. We are very much a cross section of the Anglican Communion, and at this time of division within the Communion it is good that we can come together to remind ourselves more of the things that unite us than of things upon which we disagree. Keeping Christ at the centre will surely help us to maintain a true sense of why we call ourselves Christians.

The first people who thought of themselves as Christians ? followers of Christ ? were, of course, the Twelve Apostles, and tonight we are honouring two of them, the brothers John and James, sons of Zebedee the fisherman. John the Evangelist as the patron of this church in Corringham now celebrating its fiftieth year. Throughout this weekend there have been celebrations here in Corringham representing the vitality of church in this place ? Christian community at work and at play. St John is always a good choice for a patron when something new and different is being tryed, as he had so many different roles to play in the New Testament ? from that inner circle of Jesus (Peter, James & John), his position as "the beloved Disciple", to his guardianship of Mary after the Crucifixion, to the legacy he has left behind in his writings which range from the Gospel bearing his name and three pastoral letters to the admittedly difficult Book of Revelation. So he was probably a very good choice indeed to be patron of a new church in a new community.

The two brothers ? James and John ? were sons of the fisherman Zebedee who appears in the Gospels only when he is abandoned by his sons when they leave to follow Jesus. I understand that in Biblical times, the only call stronger than a father upon his sons would be that of a rabbi upon his followers (which has echoes of this morning's Gospel ? whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me). I hope that Zebedee understood this dynamic, although it certainly must have hurt him. Our reading from Matthew tonight represents the other side of the parental story. The boys' mother approaches Jesus and asks for a special place for her sons in the new kingdom. Understandably Jesus responds that you do not know what you are asking for! He warns them that they will indeed drink from his cup, even if places at his right and left hand were not for him to grant. The brothers were called Boanerges ? Sons of Thunder. Some people think that this refers to their fiery tempers. I prefer to think that it refers to Mrs Zebedee and the way that her pushiness irritated all the other Apostles.

However, James is the brother who has most closely held my attention during the past fortnight. It was two weeks ago today that Richard Page, a friend who is churchwarden at Orsett, and I were blessed by Bishop Laurie at an early morning Eucharist and sent off to Spain to walk the Camino de Santiago. For centuries, pilgrims have taken different routes to get to the traditional site of the Apostle's tomb and shrine at Santiago de Compostela in Galicia in northern Spain. We chose the Camino Ingles from the seaport of Ferrol, a journey by foot of 116 kilometres (I like to say it in kilometres because it sounds longer than 72 miles for those of you who still speak the old language). We began each day with Morning Prayer, whether it was aboard the ferry out of Plymouth, or in hotel rooms or in pilgrim hostels. The proper start to any pilgrim day.

The pilgrimage to Compostela is different from most other pilgrimages where the goal is to arrive at the place of pilgrimage, be it Lourdes, or Canterbury, or Medijigore. In Spain, the pilgrimage is the act of getting there. The route of the Camino is marked by scallop-shell signs pointing you toward the right direction or simple spray-painted yellow arrows marked out by previous pilgrims. Sometimes the route seems simple and straight-forward, other times obscure and difficult to follow. It's a very simple and straightforward metaphor to consider the pilgrim's journey as the road of life, complete with all its twists and turns, our reliance upon others for assistance with the difficult bits, its unexpected nature. For me, the most difficult part was not getting on the road by 7am every morning, or carrying a much-too-heavy rucksack, or even surviving on not very much food. For me, the difficult part was not knowing exactly what lay ahead of us each day. Would it be more hills, paths through woodlands, or along motorways? Would we meet other people to share the experience with? Would we go through villages and find some shops for food, or would be relying once again on just ourselves, our souls and bodies?

Perhaps the greatest joy for both of us was the simple friendliness and hospitality that we met along the way. From nearly our first steps in Spain, we were recognized as pilgrims, undoubtedly because of our great walking staves. One young family was walking in the opposite direction and the mother called out to us "Santiago?", and when we said "Si" smiled and nodded to her son as if to say "I told you so" and then we received a "Buen Viaje" (Good Journey), a phrase that was often shouted out to us along the way. This friendliness towards strangers was reinforced when we went slightly astray and were pointed back in the right direction. Despite a language barrier, the message of assistance came through loud and clear.

Thursday was our toughest day of walking ? 38 kilometres altogether. We began walking at 7 in the morning and didn't reach our goal until 8 in the evening. Up and down hills all day, the roughest as well as the longest portion of the walk. By midafternoon we had run out of water and hadn't eaten all day ? except for slabs of Kendall Mint Cake, which had been provided by some parishioners. A snappy little dog went for my heels, and its owner rushed out to call it away. From her and her husband we not only got our water bottles refilled and a tin of Coke for a sugar boost, but also directions to a nearby bar for some food. But once we got to the bar, we learned that they didn't usually provide food, but called in a neighbour from across the road to translate for us ? a Spanish woman who had lived in Wembley and Bournemouth for about twenty years, but now returned to her Spanish home. They offered to drive us to a restaurant two miles away, but phoned to discover that was closed, so the bar owner's wife made sandwiches for us which were very welcome indeed.

"Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you....?" and the answer came "Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me" (Matthew 25.37-38, 40). When's the last time that any of us went out of our way to help a stranger? an alien? a pilgrim?

I have pointed out to my congregations before that the word pilgrim comes from the Greek term for "resident alien", so that as an American living in England, I am always a pilgrim here in this place. But theologians have often remarked that we are all pilgrims here in this earthly life, resident aliens in our human bodies until our souls are released to our true heavenly home. Pierre Theilhard de Chardin wrote in the first half of the 20th century, ?We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience?. In this sense, the journey of a pilgrimage runs parallel with this striving toward our eventual goal as spiritual beings. When I first visited Jerusalem, I was told that the difference between a tourist and a pilgrim is that the tourist passes through a place, while the place passes through a pilgrim. And I can say that Galicia did indeed pass through us during our pilgrimage. Reaching the Cathedral at Santiago for the Pilgrim's Mass on Saturday was both a climax and an anti-climax. We had indeed reached our goal, but the real pilgrimage had been the journey.

Well, I did promise to return to the theology of blisters. I think blisters are a marvelous thing, perhaps because I didn't suffer badly from them last week, although my travelling companion Richard probably has a different take on the subject. But think about. The body whenever it is subjected to too much friction from a shoe, for example, or too much heat from a fire, the body will produce a little sac of fluid which will protect the afflicted area from further damage. Instinctively, the body creates a little cushion to protect your body until that source of irritation is gone, and then the blister will slowly heal itself and disappear.

While we were preparing for our pilgrimage, we had lots of advice ? often conflicting ? about what to do with our feet. Wear hiking boots said some, wear trainers said others. Use two pairs of socks at once advised some, use only one pair at a time said others. Soak your feet in white spirits to toughen them up ? or cover them in vasaline each morning to keep them supple. And we were given a box of lamb's wool to cushion tender spots. As well as this packet of "party feet" by Dr. Scholl. As the package tells us "Party Feet: Invisible Gel Cushions. Help prevent the burning pain in the balls of your feet. Ideal for all high heels and sandals. Party all night & shop all day!" Well, we were neither partying nor shopping, not wearing high heels or sandals, but I love the idea of artificial blisters, little cushions which can guess how our feet will react when we punish them with too much walking. I have to admit that we didn't use them, but I certainly will keep a packet for the future ? just in case.

But I did say the theology of blisters and not just the biology of blisters, didn't I? Very simplistically, we can think of a blister as the way that God protects us in times of trial. It might be painful and difficult, but that protection will indeed help and save us. The blister, when it has accomplished its intention, reabsorbs into the body and becomes part of us again, just as God's love for each of us becomes part of our being. It helps us through the tough times, but strengthens us and becomes part of our soul.

I'd like to end with the Pilgrimage Prayer that Richard and I used to begin each day of our journey, a good way to remind ourselves of goals and aspirations, along with our dependence upon each other, and ultimately upon God.

Lord, you have called us to a pilgrimage of faith.
The light of your truth summons us,
and the call of faith is a constant challenge on our journey.

We give thanks for the desire to seek you:
we give thanks for voices from the past that offer guidance,
for signposts pointing to the next stage,
for companions who share the journey,
for footsteps in the sand of pilgrims before us,
for the conviction that, unseen but not unknown, you are with us.

Lord, keep us faithful to the vision,
and steadfast on our pilgrimage
so that the distant goal may become a reality,
and faith at last lead to sight. AMEN.